


What Comes Next

by marmolady



Series: Beyond Vaanu: Endless Ending [4]
Category: Endless Summer (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:02:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24370270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marmolady/pseuds/marmolady
Summary: (Endless Ending– set after my longer fic, ‘Broken Chains’, if you’ve not read it, assume a happy ending). Just a short piece that took WAY too long. Michelle and Quinn are adjusting to life after La Huerta.
Relationships: Estela Montoya/Main Character (Endless Summer), Quinn Kelly/Michelle Nguyen
Series: Beyond Vaanu: Endless Ending [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1906357
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	What Comes Next

For several long moments after she hung up the phone, Michelle continued to turn her bobby pin over in her hands; twiddling, turning, fidgeting, over and over. She breathed deeply. Putting the pieces of her life back together after some eighteen months stranded on La Huerta was… challenging.

Reconnecting with her family, with her mother, had been utterly daunting. What was there to say after so long, after so much had happened? Her mom had feared for her-- of course she had; their relationship might have broken down, but a daughter’s mysterious vanishing could only have been torture to a mother. It _had_ been awkward. Apologies had been stilted, uncertain. La Huerta had changed Michelle, and it was a lot to convey. Hell, she was still with Sean last time she’d spoken to her mom. It was now like a distant memory, that person she’d once been. No-- she was the same person, just not so… lost. Now, she was so sure of herself, and _happy_ ; taking on her future as the strong, sharp, and compassionate force of nature she knew she was.And she had Quinn. Perhaps that was what had stunned Michelle’s mother most of all. The thought made Michelle shake her head with a wry smile; her mom had covered her shock well, offered shaky words of validation, but there was no doubt that it had been a shock. Michelle herself had found it difficult to put a label on her sexuality; she was probably bisexual by all definitions, but she hated to be tied to a label. Maybe she didn’t need one. She’d established that she was attracted to men, and less often, to women, and that the person she was in love with was a woman. No one was owed any more clarification than that. Labels didn’t matter. What mattered was that she loved Quinn, and Quinn loved her.

The phone buzzed, and a message lit up the screen.

_‘Heya Meech, hope you and Q are settling into your new place._ A smiley face and a heart emoji. _Don’t freak out, okay?-- but I had a weird turn yesterday. I pushed myself when I was tired, and I passed out. I swear I’m fine. Don’t worry. Just thought you’d want to know. Will put on the brakes a bit and let myself rest. After yesterday, pretty sure E won’t let me NOT rest. She’s good. TG has struck up this bromance with her tio. Like I said, I’m fine, just wanted to keep you in the loop. Love ya, doc-- take care. Taylor x’_

Michelle frowned. She resumed twiddling with her bobby pin. _Goddammit, Taylor; I told you to be careful._ It was mere weeks since Taylor had been at death’s door, her body and soul essentially needing to rebuild itself after she’d offered her very essence back to Vaanu. Michelle had been at her friend’s side through it all, pulling her back from the brink over and over. Worrying about her was, at his point, almost a constant state of being. There was no doctor on this earth who’d have a clue about what Taylor was; her care was and always would be upon the shoulders of Michelle and the Vaanti healers. That was a lot on the shoulders of a young pre-med. Groaning, she typed up a reply.

_‘For fuck’s sake, look after yourself! I cannot deal with heartbroken Estela again. Will come over there and drag you into bed by your ear if I have to. We’re good. A little stressed, but coping.’_

That would do for now. She couldn’t get caught up in anxiety over things she only had so much power to control. Taylor said she was fine… that would need to be enough. Michelle had her own life to piece back together, and she had to support Quinn as she built a future from scratch. Her other friends… they’d find their way. That feeling of responsibility, though, was damn near impossible to kick. With a deep breath, Michelle placed down the bobby pin on her dresser. She’d given herself time to feel her stress and worry; now, it was time to let it go, and make the most of a new day in a life that still felt impossible.

In the apartment’s boxy yet cosy lounge, sheets had been draped protectively over the furniture, and by the open window, Quinn concentrated over an easel, paintbrush in hand.

“Well,” Michelle said as she strode into the room, “that went about as well as I could have hoped for…”

Quinn looked up from her painting immediately, and set aside her brush. At a time like this, her full attention _had_ to be on her lover. The weight of having to repair family bonds was one she knew all too well. She hesitated before wrapping her arms around Michelle, taking a moment to make sure she hadn’t spilled any paint down her front-- a moment that didn’t go unnoticed.

With an appreciative shake of the head, Michelle let herself be held, while the last few tears spilled down her cheeks.

“I am so, _so_ proud of you. My hero.”

“It was just a phone call, Quinn. No monsters slain, no disruptions in history averted--”

“Meech!”

Michelle gave a small scowl of protest, but stopped putting herself down. It was all well and good to act confident, like she was an untouchable figure, but strength in the face of her true vulnerabilities could be so easy to brush aside. No one ever saw it. No one but Quinn.

“It went… fine. She was what I expected; distant, cold. Everything I’d been to her. But every now and then I’d feel… she still loves me. After I treated her like crap, she still loves me.” She pulled Quinn in for a kiss, then sighed bitterly. “I expected her to lose it when I told her about you. For so long I had it in my head that she was this absolute bitch-- that was where I got it from-- but _no,_ that’s all me.”

“ _Michelle!_ ” Quinn snapped, firmer this time. She wouldn’t hear it. “Stop it. If you keep talking about yourself like that, you’ll believe it forever. I won’t stand by and let that be how you see yourself.”

Michelle winced and tugged her girlfriend closer. _It’s not as easy as just turning it off._ Of course, Quinn knew that. That’s why they had to be in this together; keeping one another from buckling under. She kissed Quinn, hard, letting the sensation wash over her, anchoring her to what was her future.

“Shit, I needed that,” she gasped as she came away.

Quinn giggled, a little breathless herself. Her cheeks were flushed pink, so impossible to hide upon her pale skin. To be kissed by Michelle, openly, without hesitation, remained a thrill-- it had, after all, been no more than a month since they’d become serious, official. Truth be told, she’d needed that too. She beamed at Michelle, delighting in the exhilaration she saw reflected there.

“Well,” she said, “helping you out with _that_ will always be my pleasure.” She brushed a hand lovingly over Michelle’s arm. “I think what we could actually both use is to get out of this place. I don’t know if it’s because I’m used to the wide open spaces of tropical paradise, but I could _really_ go for some fresh air right now.”

As she reached for Quinn’s hand, Michelle took a moment to take in the work of art upon the easel. It was an abstract, a colourful landscape of swirls and jagged edges, somehow both joyous and melancholy.

“It’s beautiful, Quinn. The contradictions of mood you’ve managed to give it… it just feels _deep._ Like you’ve managed to put on canvas a storm of too many emotions.” _How I feel right now. And how you…?_ “Quinn…?”

“It helped me come to grips with my own feelings. The way I’m at war with myself over it all. Coming home, looking forward to a future that I never should have had— that’s where it gets me. I cheated. I was given the most incredible gift, a miracle, but it’s giving false hope. It’s such a small community of Rotterdam’s sufferers, we all know one another. To see them hear that I’m better, to have them desperately want to know how, why…. Michelle, it makes me feel like a monster. I have nothing to give, no way to explain it. Suddenly there’s this pressure to make this life I’ve been given _worthy_ of that miracle.”

Michelle frowned, but her expression remained kind-- if stern. That was a hell of a lot to carry, and Quinn had asked for one of it. “You’ve given enough,” she said firmly, knowing that it wasn’t something that would sink in easily. “Without you, we’d have all died I don’t even know how many times. And the world would still be burning. You owe _nothing.”_

With a wince, Quinn managed a weak, knowing smile. “As if I have the nerve to tell you not to be so hard on yourself, and then treat myself just as badly. Such a hypocrite.”

“I know, right? Come on; we need to get out of here.”

* * *

It was a short walk from the tidy apartment to a quiet cafe strip, now quieter than usual because of the light drizzle that had been ongoing since late the night before. Even the rain was so different from what Michelle and Quinn had become used to on La Huerta-- refreshing, less muggy. Cool upon their skin. No doubt they’d soon enough take to sheltering from it as everyone else did, but for now it was another reminder that they’d finally made it home.

They sat down to two steaming coffees, putting aside a local newspaper that had been left by the diner before them-- upon its front page the title ‘Hartfeld Eleven to Re-enrol Amid Ongoing Investigation’. Michelle’s expression momentarily darkened at the sight of it, but she exhaled deeply, forcing out the rising tension in her body. The media storm had been exhausting, and with so many questions left unanswered, it was clear that whispers would continue long after the press had had their fill. The Catalysts, or rather, those who’d returned to the States, had been united in their protection of one another through harrowing stretches of questioning. The worst, it seemed, was over. There was no evidence of wrong-doing on their part, only reels of surveillance footage showing clear self-defence in the face of Rourke’s machinations. The billionaire’s now-public fall from grace and reported accidental demise made for big news, and for the most part, the reappearance of eleven vanished college students dimmed in relative interest. The stares she’d been receiving were _more_ than enough uninvited attention as far as Michelle was concerned. As attention slowly, _glacially_ waned, even around Hartfeld itself, she was able to hope that normal was not an altogether distant dream.

Quinn smiled wistfully over her coffee, a foam moustache upon her lip. She caught Michelle’s eye, and felt warmth bubble up within her-- with no need for the assistance of a hot beverage-- at the laugh she saw in her lover’s face.

“You know,” Michelle said airily, “I don’t think I’m ever going to take for granted a really _good_ cup of coffee ever again.” She glanced in through the cafe windows. For the first time in a long time, there were no curious gazes looking back. For the first time in a long time, it felt like she’d come through the storm, and was stepping into the shoes of the person that La Huerta, that her friends, had helped her become. She leaned forward, kissing away the foam from Quinn’s lip; a tantalising hit of warmth, cold, sweet, bitter.

There was a buzz from Michelle’s pocket. Reluctantly pulling away from the kiss, she rolled her eyes. It was pretty clear that her Catalyst family would be walking with her to whatever came next, and after all they’d been through, she wouldn’t have it any other way.

Quinn just laughed at the look on her girlfriend’s face. “Who is it this time?”

“Oh,” Michelle said, surprised. “It’s Estela. Apparently she _does_ know how to use one of these things.” As she read the message, the expression of incredulity on her face softened into a smile. It was far more simple, shorter and to the point in a way that contrasted strongly with Taylor’s wordy spiels. That she’d reached out _at all_ was a mark of deep care from someone so often self-contained and distant, no doubt triggered by their shared concern for Taylor’s well-being.

“ _Don’t worry,”_ she read. _“We’ll be okay.”_

Michelle looked back up into Quinn’s shining blue eyes and loved her. _Damn straight, we’ll be okay._


End file.
